


The Lies We Tell Ourselves

by mischiefgoddesscomplex



Category: Tasertricks - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefgoddesscomplex/pseuds/mischiefgoddesscomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis and Loki Odinson both work for SHIELD and are both striving towards acceptance as official field agents. Together, they must discover the identity of an anonymous terrorist before a bomb threatens to take out major world players at the Casino Royale in Montenegro. </p><p>Oh, and their covers call for them to be married. To each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this plot bouncing around in my head every since I rewatched _Casino Royale_ last week, and I really wanted to put these two in a spy thriller situation. And I've just come off reading a stucky fake-married fic, so I thought, why the hell not. It's one of my favorite tropes so why not throw that into the mix as well. And voila. This fic was born. It'll be a short thing, just long enough to satisfy my muse. 
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments are lovely.

This is bad. This is definitely bad. There is no way this is anything other than the absolute worst. Darcy’s never been inside Director Fury’s office before, but she’s heard myths and horror stories. Unless you’re one of his golden children, like Steve Rogers or Natasha Romanoff, you don’t just get invited into Fury’s office for a pleasant little chat. Oh no. She’s definitely getting fired. 

She taps the ball of her foot nervously as she waits for him to arrive. She hasn’t been given the title of ‘agent’ yet, as she’s never gone out on a mission. Her two year anniversary as a trainee was just around the corner. Most of her days are spent in the Avengers training facility in upstate New York, tirelessly spent running drills and memorizing protocols and procedures. _Attempting_ to memorize would be a more accurate way of putting it.

So she can’t help but wrack her brain and wonder just what the hell she’s done to warrant her termination. _Steve Rogers probably doesn’t even have all those rules and regulations memorized,_ she finds herself thinking instead, _there’s no way…_

She jolts upright at the sudden entrance of Director Fury, unable to help her blathering as he marches towards his desk, “Hey, uh, listen - I’m sorry for whatever I did. Please don’t fire me. If this is about the time I took two helpings of waffles that morning in the mess hall I swear Agent Barton told me he does it all the time and - ”

“Miss Lewis.” Fury cuts her off with the coldest, steeliest gaze he can manage (which, for a one-eyed dude, is majorly impressive). “You’re going on assignment.” 

Darcy’s jaw practically hits the floor. Well, that is _definitely_ the last thing she expected to hear. 

“I’m sorry, I’m - what?” 

“I didn’t stutter,” Fury says, sliding a file across his desk towards her. “We need you to do undercover reconnaissance at the Casino Royale in Montenegro on an extremely classified mission. We have another member of the team working on this particular assignment already, but we’re calling you in for backup.” 

Darcy’s head starts spinning. Holy shit, this is all happening so much faster than she’d ever imagined. Three seconds ago she was sure her ass was canned, and now she’s being flown out on a top secret undercover mission? Her heart skips a beat. She reaches for the file and looks up at Fury, “Is this for real?”

Fury nods his head, “SHIELD’s been chasing dead ends on this case for a while. I’m sure you’ve seen the news - the anonymous terrorist who has been threatening to bomb the Gathering of Nations Summit in Montenegro. It’s an excuse for all the big-whigs around the world to get together and party. That event is this weekend, and against all of our urges to cancel it, the bastards are still lining up to clink their champagne flutes and smoke their cigars.” 

Darcy opens her case file and flips through the handful of documents as Fury continues, “We don’t know who the terrorist is, but through the intel we’ve received so far, we know they’ll be in attendance this weekend. It’s your job to infiltrate the crowd and figure out his or her identity.” 

“You know I’m not…I’m not an agent yet, right?” Darcy can’t help but ask, feeling the weight of the mission on her shoulders already, “This will be my first mission. Do I get a gun, or some kind of - ”

Director Fury holds up his hands, “Slow your roll a little, Lewis. We know you’re not an agent. That’s why you’re doing undercover reconnaissance _only_. Once you’ve successfully identified the terrorist, we’ll send in a team of agents to handle the situation. We’ll equip you with a taser and other light weaponry, but you won’t need a gun.” He pauses a little to make a sound of consideration, “You do your job right on this, and you might just become an agent after all.” 

Darcy nods her head in understanding, feeling like a ball of giddy nerves and excitement as she looks back down at her file. This was miles better than spending the weekend at the training facility. She was ready to get out in the field. Show them she had the stuff agents were made of. She could do this. 

She studies one of the sheets in her file a little more closely. Even though her last name would be changed, her alias name would still be Darcy, much to her displeasure. She was hoping for a more exotic cover, but she was’t one to fight Fury on it. One thing stuck out above all else, though. Next to her status, it read clear as day: married. 

“Whoa, I’ve got a husband?” Darcy asks, scrunching up her face and holding up the sheet. “What gives, boss?” 

“As I previously mentioned, one of our team has already been working on the case,” Fury states, “He’s also not an agent, but that’s simply due to the fact that we don’t fully trust him yet. You both have something to prove on this mission, should you successfully complete it.” 

“The two of you will need to play the part of husband and wife,” Fury continues at Darcy’s confused look, “Millionaires who reside in Paris, France. All the details concerning your backstory can be found in your case file. Your partner is already at the location.”

The fact that Fury’s purposefully skirting the subject of naming her partner doesn’t go unnoticed. Darcy closes her folder and looks him straight in the eye, “So…who am I working with?” 

Fury huffs a little, taking on his duty of being the bearer of bad news, “Loki Odinson.”

Darcy feels her stomach drop to the soles of her feet. Did she hear him right? He can’t possibly mean Loki, brother of Thor, destroyer of New York not more than five years ago? Right? She opens her mouth to protest, but Fury beats her to it. 

“I’d go pack your bags now if I were you, Miss Lewis. Your plane leaves in an hour.”

_______________________________________________

Montenegro is a beautiful country. Full of sparkling blue water and a sky filled with the puffiest white clouds. The ocean water lightly sprays her as her speedboat carries her from the small airport to the mainland, where luscious green hills dot the country-side, filled with mansions and sprawling homes worth more than her whole life, probably. She really should be appreciating the beauty of it all more, it’s just…

She adjusts her sunglasses with a scowl. The thought of working with Loki Odinson is just ruining everything for her, it seems. 

He’d joined SHIELD and the Avengers a few months after she had, and it had really been a shock for everybody. Even more so was the fact that Fury had been willing to trust him. Of course he had the right skill set to be an agent, the physicality, the intelligence. It was just the whole, ‘I tried to take over the world’ thing that really made people scratch their heads when he signed up for work. 

Thor vouched for him, of course. And oddly enough, Loki actually seemed begrudgingly sincere, but Darcy immediately distrusted him on principle. How could she not? The bastard leveled half of the city like it was a lazy Sunday afternoon for him. “People can change,” promised Thor. “My brother has good in his heart,” he assured them. That was two years ago. And since then, against all odds, Loki _actually had_ become a devoted trainee. 

Whatever had possessed Fury to okay the ex-villain, and despite all his changes, Darcy still was wary. It didn’t help that Loki was a massive dick like, all the time, either. 

Most of the time he kept to himself, which was fine by her. But he had a nasty habit of using dirty tricks on the sparring mat back at the training facility, and Darcy herself had fallen victim to his moves on more than a few occasions. The whole ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude he gave off wasn’t a fan-favorite, either. 

She might love Thor, and Thor might love his brother, but that doesn’t mean she has to.

Her speedboat docks at a port near one of the most beautiful, sparkling, white-sand beaches she’s ever seen. There’s a fancy car with a driver waiting for her, who takes all of her luggage and chauffeurs her up the coastal road towards the hotel and casino the convention is being held at. 

If the heads of state and world leaders are nervous about the terrorist threats, they sure don’t look it. Darcy’s car pulls up in a long queue line of vehicles, all dropping off the wealthiest and elitist and most powerful figureheads and billionaires from around the world. Darcy gets the feeling this is just one big party for most of them, judging by the way the guests all greet each other with smiles and laughter. The convention doesn’t officially start until tomorrow, but already the crowd gathering around the front of the hotel is pretty sizable. 

Darcy removes her sunglasses and pushes her hair out of her face as she steps out of the car. She’d opted for wearing a white sundress and strappy sandals, bordering just on the right side of expensive taste. Thankfully, SHIELD had provided her entire wardrobe, allowing her to play up her cover. 

“Darling,” A voice smoother than silk and richer than honey calls out to her, and she’s alarmed to see none other than Loki himself approaching her from the front steps of the hotel. He’s dressed casually: a tight, white button-down shirt tucked into black dress pants, his normally wild black hair slicked back into a bun. He grins a charmingly bright smile full of teeth, such a stark contrast to the scowl she’s used to seeing on him. 

Her eyes widen a little as he comes up and wraps his arms around her, surrounded by all the other guests milling about near the outside of the hotel. His fingers slip around her waist, sliding to the small of her back as he pulls her close, and she lets out a small squeak of discomfort. 

“Kiss me.” He commands tightly under his breath, his mouth straining under his fake smile. 

“No!” Darcy whispers back with alarm. Shit. They’re supposed to be husband and wife. Did she really assume she could survive the whole four days without kissing him? _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

Loki lowers his forehead so that it’s touching hers, and his hand comes up to cup her cheek, partially just to block his own words from being heard as he whispers darkly, “Kiss me now, people are watching.” 

“I - _mmph,_ ” Darcy starts to protest, but not before he slots his mouth against hers. 

It takes her by surprise somehow. Not just the fact that she’s kissing Loki Odinson, but the fact that his lips are actually… _soft_. Softer than they look. Not that she’s ever looked at them before. But they are. And he’s surprisingly pretty good at this whole kissing thing, and, _oh_ \- he’s tugging on her lower lip. _He wants you to kiss him back, you idiot, stop standing there like a vegetable._

She moves her mouth against his, lips smacking together a little awkwardly before Loki finally pulls back. The look in his eye seems to say “that will have to do,” and Darcy fights the urge to roll her eyes. Yep, still a massive dick. 

He loops his arm around her waist, a gesture that causes her to shiver involuntarily, and guides her up the front steps of the hotel as he proclaims too loudly, “I’m so glad you’re here, I’ve missed you terribly.” 

“I’ve missed you too, dear,” She replies sweetly, just a little bit of sarcasm dripping on her last word. “Paris is so lonely without you.” They both smile brightly at each other like idiots as they walk inside and Loki jabs the button for the elevator. 

Loki guides her inside, one hand still on her waist, as he pushes the button for the 9th floor. As soon as the doors ping shut, his hand retracts immediately, as though he’s just made contact with some sort of infectious disease. 

“Darcy.”

“Loki.”

The both glare at each other from opposite ends of the elevator. For a minute, the fact that the entire hotel and casino is under the threat of going up in smoke isn’t even the worst thing on Darcy’s mind. The fact that she’ll somehow have to survive that _and_ being fake married to Loki Odinson is a mission in and of itself. A cheerful little tune wafts through the speakers in the elevator, offsetting the sour looks they’re currently giving each other. 

Oh, this is definitely going to be a fun weekend.

_______________________________________________

Loki rubs his temples with his index fingers, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens them again - and sees that _she_ is still in his hotel room suite, napping on his bed - he groans to himself.

He could have done this mission alone. Easily. All he needed was a little more time. He’d been working on it for a month, trying to identify the terrorist, but Fury had jumped the gun and called in backup for this weekend. Backup in the name of Darcy Lewis. 

Why in the world she’d been chosen is beyond him. He’d never particularly gotten along with her - but then, he’d never particularly gotten along with most people at SHIELD. He was trying to do good, trying to be more than the person he was - but it was people with the bright and shiny optimism like Darcy Lewis that made it so damn difficult. 

This was supposed to be his moment - his moment to prove to SHIELD, to his brother, to the world, that he was worth something after all. How was he supposed to do that now with the five feet of sunshine and sass sprawled out underneath his sheets? 

They may be forced to work together, but he couldn’t be forced to enjoy it. Even though, technically, that was exactly what his new cover entailed. 

He sighs, looking at the Rolex on his wrist. He’d let her sleep her jet-lag off long enough. 

“Five more minutes, ma,” Darcy babbles, pulling the covers up over her head after he shakes her shoulder. 

Loki clenches his jaw tightly in annoyance, “We’re on assignment, Darcy. Every minute we squander in here is another minute closer to a bomb going off under our very feet.” 

That does the trick. Darcy pushes the covers of the bed off with an agitated huff, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. A fleeting thought crosses Loki’s mind, one that can’t help but notice just how young and vulnerable and soft she suddenly looks, curled up in a nest of blankets. It’s gone in an instant though, as more pressing matters flood his brain. 

“We’ll need to rehearse our story tonight before we go out,” Loki explains, throwing the case file at Darcy from the nightstand. “There’s a welcome party for all the guests, and we’ll be in attendance.” 

“I read this already,” Darcy declares, sitting up in bed as she tosses it onto the pillow next to her. 

“Really…” Loki cocks an eyebrow, challenging her tone, “Aliases?” 

“Darcy and Loki Laurent, from Paris, France,” Darcy rattles off. 

“Net Worth?”

“Twenty point nine million.” 

“How old were we when we married?”

“Um…twenty and…twenty-two…I think?”

“Where did you attend university?”

“Oh shit…um, wait, I know this…”

“My favorite wine?”

“Don’t be a dick, that wasn’t in the file - ” 

“You’re not prepared in the slightest,” Loki scoffs, shaking his head. “If we’re going to convince people we’re married, you need to know these things.” 

Darcy begrudgingly snatches back the case file and reopens it. Thankfully, he’d already prepared last night, pouring over every detail of their cover, so he says, “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I expect you to know that better than your own life story by the time I get out.” 

Unsurprisingly, Darcy does not master the case file in the time it takes him to shower and get dressed. When he returns, he quizzes her relentlessly, drilling into her the most important facts, and decides that for now, it’s as good as it’s going to get. Eventually he lets her go shower and change, not realizing the amount of time they’d already taken up. 

Just outside the bathroom door, Loki stands in front of the mirror, adjusting the buttons on his vest jacket before winding a tie around his neck. He can hear Darcy on the other side of the bathroom door, the hair dryer whirring. 

“The first date we ever went on?” He yells over the noise. 

“You took me to a wine valley in Florence,” She calls back, and then after a beat adds dryly, “And then you begged me to suck you off behind a wine barrel, but I adamantly refused.”

Loki rolls his eyes at her ridiculous addendum. Let her joke all she wants. Better to let her get it all out of her system now. “Do we have children?” He calls out. 

“No,” Darcy replies, “And we don’t want them, either. Well, I do, maybe someday.” 

Her last sentence causes his fingers to fault slightly in tying his tie. He can’t remember himself if that was a specific detail in the case file, but he lets it slide. She has the most important facts straight, and that’s all that matters. 

The sound of the hair-dryer cuts, and Loki resumes to talking normally, “I’ve narrowed down my suspect list to three guests. I cross-referenced the guest list through SHEILD’s databases and couldn’t find evidence of their existence elsewhere. I’ll need you to be a distraction tonight so I can get a closer look at them. Do you think you can handle that?”

“What, being a distraction?” Darcy calls out, the sound of the door clicking as she turns the knob, “Not exactly what I trained for, but…” 

She steps out in one of the most stunning gowns Loki’s ever seen. Ruby red, clinging to her every curve as it lands around her ankles. And oh, does she have curves. 

His breath catches for a moment as he turns from the mirror to face her. The dress is cut low - low enough to serve the purpose of a big enough distraction in and of itself. Her milky white skin is offset by the tumbling waves of dark brown hair and her blood-red lips, the tiny smirk etched onto her face causing him to clear his throat. When he blinks again, he forces himself to focus solely on her eyes. 

“Yeah…I can be a distraction.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of freaking out over how many people love this story already, because it started out as a simple little plot I had to write out of my brain. Who knew we are all suckers for a good ole-fashioned sexy spy fake-married trope, eh? I really hope you continue to enjoy it (and I've decided to extend it out one more chapter! Because reasons). Kudos and comments are so lovely and what keep me going. 
> 
> ps: [this song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9skOeTViEMI)has been my writing motivation the entire time for this story. definitely sets the sexy spy mood.

The elevator doors ping shut again, the couple who had previously been riding with them now making their way down the hallway and out of earshot. 

“Your laugh sounds too forced. Like, a bear is tap dancing on your chest while someone’s holding a gun to your head and making you laugh like your life depended on it.” 

“That’s a surprisingly accurate way of describing it…”

“Loki.” Darcy gives him a deadpan, and then lowers her voice, “You were the one who was all ‘no one will believe us if you don’t play the part.’ So here I am telling you your laugh sounds like shit for someone who’s supposedly madly in love with me.”

Loki’s jaw clenches and unclenches as he takes her advice, his hands balled up into fists. He’s agitated because he knows she’s right. Darcy can see that he absolutely hates being told what to do. And that only makes her want to boss him around even more.

They arrive to a welcome cocktail party in the main ballroom, already in full swing with a live band playing soothing jazz and people mingling and schmoozing. It branches out into an open terrace, the cool sea breeze blowing through the room and billowing the decorative curtains hanging from stone pillars. From where they stand at the top of a grand staircase, a waiter stops by, offering them a tray full of champagne flutes. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Darcy smiles gratefully at the waiter, plucking a glass from the spread.

She’s tilting it towards her mouth when Loki snatches it out of her hand, unceremoniously tossing the liquid over his shoulder and into a potted-palm tree. He sets the glass back down on a nearby empty table as Darcy stares at him with a slightly-gaping jaw. 

“What gives?” She complains, eyeing the plant mournfully, “I’m pretty sure I needed that way more than the palm tree does.” 

“We’re not here to party, Darcy,” Loki reminds her in a low voice, even though the look in his eye makes her feel like this is revenge for criticizing his laugh. “We’re here to work. And that means keeping _all_ of your wits about you.” 

“Buzzkill,” Darcy mutters under her breath, pouting with her lower lip as she places one hand on her hip. Her sassy look is killed almost instantly, however, as Loki winds his arm around her waist, subtly detaching her hand from her hip and putting his own in its place. 

“You love me, remember?” Loki replies sweetly, just enough for Darcy to detect his sarcasm. That son of a bitch. 

As they walk down into the party, Darcy notices more than a few familiar faces. CEOs of fortune five hundred companies, heads of state, political activists, and even a few celebrities. She’s trying not to become starstruck, but it’s difficult when people like Hilary Clinton walk past no more than two feet in front of her. 

“Do you see that man over there?” Loki leans in and whispers against her ear, jolting her from her fangirl state. She follows his line of sight to a middle-aged man standing by the bar, commanding the attention of the handful of other guests surrounding him, all enraptured by a story he’s telling. “He’s registered under the name Peter Kozlovsky, but I couldn’t find any record of him in SHIELD’s databases. Notice the two men in black hovering at his ten and two o’clock. Security detail.”

“Time to get to work, then,” Darcy grits her teeth, eyeing the scene thoroughly and taking note of the two burly men in black jackets sitting behind their suspect. She straightens her shoulders, puts on her best look of confidence, and saunters up to the bar. 

“An apple martini, please,” She asks the bartender with a bat of her eyelashes, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a casual flick of the wrist. Kozlovsky has instantly taken notice, and the sight of him staring at her out of the corner of her eye fills her with a satisfied smugness. 

When the bartender places her drink in from of her, Kozlovky leans foreword with one arm, and with a thick Russian accent waves her bill by saying, “Her drink is on me.” 

Darcy feigns appreciation and flattery, smiling at him coyly, “Are you buying all the women in here drinks tonight, or is this just to make me feel special?” 

“Which answer will get you to stick around longer, hm?” He replies, a gross twinkle in his eye that causes Darcy to shudder on the inside. On the outside, she pushes forward, quite literally, until she’s practically standing against him in the crowded space. 

“If you’ll keep buying me drinks, you can say whatever you want,” She fires back playfully, purposefully leaning forward a little to better display her cleavage. Instantly, it’s as though the man’s eyes can’t look anywhere else. Damn perverted creep. But this is her window of opportunity…

He doesn’t even notice her slender hand plucking his wallet from his side pocket. Her distraction tactics seem to have worked, thank God. She tugs on her right ear, the code she and Loki had agreed upon. And suddenly he’s appearing at her side, slipping his hand around her waist in a move that seems almost effortless now. He plants a swift kiss to her cheek with a breathless “Hello, darling.” 

“You have a husband?” Kozlovsky asks with a hint of barely containable disdain. 

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Loki asks with slight offense, his hand instinctively tightening around her waist. Just like they’d rehearsed. A flash of jealousy crosses his eyes as he catches Kozlovsky ogling her again, and Darcy can’t help but admire just how well he’s playing the part. 

“Give us a moment, please,” Darcy apologizes to Kozlovsky, trying hard to paint the picture of embarrassment at Loki’s immaturity. He only scoffs as he turns away from them, and then Darcy is leading Loki by the hand away from the bar. 

“I don’t appreciate my wife flirting with other men,” Loki chides her loud enough for a few people nearby to hear. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Darcy rolls her eyes at him, playing up their fight a little more. Just until they’re out of earshot, just until she’s pushing him into the nearest coat closet…

She slams the door behind them, whirling around with a more composed look on her face, dropping their facade. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually pretty jealous of the attention I was getting out there.” 

“God of Lies, darling.” Loki reminds her in a dark, low tone, so smug and self-assured. Cocky bastard. That half little smirk shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Darcy could slap that look right off his face and not have a single guilty thought about it. 

“Did you get it?” He asks expectantly. 

Darcy huffs, flinging the wallet at him. Any normal person, and it would have smacked them right in the mouth. But Loki’s god-like reflexes quickly snatch it out of the air. He leafs through it, plucking out one of Kozlovsky’s room keys with a wicked grin before tossing her back the wallet. 

“Perfect,” Loki breathes the word, “I’ll need about ten minutes to thoroughly bug his room. Think you can handle being the distraction a little while longer?” 

“Trust me,” Darcy assures him, “I’ve distracted men for much longer doing a lot less.” 

She’s ready to leave until she notices his hesitant expression. He slowly raises his eyebrows before saying, “…You know how we have to look before we go back out there, right?”

Darcy stares at him, letting the puzzle pieces of his implication fall into place. What would the crowd have seen? A young, attractive, married couple heatedly fighting…the wife pushing her husband into a secluded spot… _oh, shit_.

“We definitely came in here to make out, didn’t we?” She asks with a wince. Nothing screams angry and passionate kissing like shoving your significant other into a coat closet. She really should have thought that one through. Next time she's shoving him into a dumpster. 

“Well, that or it looks like we came in here to kill each other. But for some reason I feel as though that would attract more attention,” Loki muses, and then after a beat adds, “Unfortunately.” 

“Okay, so…” Darcy draws out her sentence, gesturing animatedly. Her heart is suddenly beating a little faster in her chest, and she's trying to avoid looking at his lips, “…we’ll loosen your tie a little, ruffle up my hair, call it good?” 

“Yes, that should…right, that should work,” Loki concludes, and, is it just her, or does he look a little uncomfortable himself?

They both alter their appearances, trying to create the illusion they’d snuck into the closet for a quick make out session. After ruffling her hair, Darcy turns towards Loki with an expectant, “Well?” She gazes up at Loki, who really only looks like he forgot to tie his tie tighter. It’s a pretty pathetic attempt, if she’s being honest with herself. 

“Your hair simply looks like you ran your fingers through it twice,” Loki responds disapprovingly, and she groans. 

“Maybe we should, just, _you know_ …” Darcy suggests, feeling a nervous lump forming in her throat at what she’s implying. “…for the mission, I mean.” 

“Ah,” Loki says the word, sounding tight in his throat. “Right. I suppose it would look more realistic if you marked me with your lipstick. For the mission.” 

It’s not like she actually wants to make out with Loki. It’s not like he would ever want to actually make out with her, either, right? Although, what man wouldn’t, if she’s being honest with herself. But this is Loki, and he’s a pain in her ass…a really, incredibly good-looking pain in her ass. And she’ll just have to suck it up and spend a few minutes with her mouth all over him. For the mission. 

She places her hands on his shoulders, suddenly feeling like this coat closet is way too small. And he smells way too good, and…and, maybe this won’t be so terrible after all? She closes her eyes and presses her lips to his, carefully, almost like she’s unsure of how to kiss someone, as though she’s never done it before. 

And, oh - she’s kissing Loki Odinson for the second time in her life. And his lips are still soft, slotting against hers as she begins to move her mouth. She tilts her head a little, trying to get a little deeper access - 

“ _Oh_ ,” She breaths out, because suddenly he’s pushing his body against hers, backing her up against the door in one quick movement. She blinks up at him in surprise from under her long lashes. 

Loki envelops her it seems, his body pressed up against hers in all the right places. And then he’s grabbing her face with his hands, his voice a low growl against her lips as he commands, “Rougher.” And then his lips crash down onto hers with such ferocity it almost takes the wind out of her. “We’re angry at each other, remember?” He reminds her in that gravelly tone between breathless kisses, his lips hotly claiming hers.

“Yeah...” She whispers, feeling her stomach flip in response to the way he’d uttered the word _rougher._ Her thoughts are all over the place now, confused, conflicted. _Don’t think too much into it. He’s got a point, after all…_

Everything feels like a whirlwind: Loki’s got his hands winding up into the back of her hair, tugging and tousling her locks, and she’s got hers snaking up his chest. All the while she kisses him more passionately than she’s ever kissed a man before, her tongue butting sensually against his, licking and biting on his lower lip every now and then for good measure.

Her hands work blindly on loosening his tie a little more, undoing the first few buttons on his collar. “Neck,” She whispers breathlessly against the corner of his mouth. She feels like her mouth is operating on a whole different level than her brain right now, but she tries not to think about it as she whispers again, “Let me kiss your neck.” 

He doesn’t respond, but she can feel the slight nod of his head, giving her permission to ghost her lips across his jaw in an open-mouthed kiss, working her way down his throat. She marks him with her mouth just above where his pulse point is, sucking down and swirling her tongue, and, _oh my god_ , did he just let out a moan? Fuck, that noise shouldn’t have shot straight to her lady parts, but it did anyway.

“Apologies,” He actually chokes out, clearing his throat, “That’s, uh - that’s a… _spot,_ for me.” 

Darcy stops kissing him for a moment, letting the information sink in. Loki Odinson, big bad God of Mischief and Lies, has a weak spot when you kiss him just above his pulse? _Well, I’ll be damned…_ Darcy thinks with weird satisfaction, knowing she’d actually made him a little weak in the knees. 

“Okay…” She breathes out the word, detaching herself a little as she looks up at him, “That should do the trick.” 

He has smudges of faded lipstick all around his mouth and neck, his shirt and tie ruffled, a completely blissed out expression on his face. She did that to him. She did all of that to him and he _moaned_. Goddamn, looking at him right now shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is. 

“You look thoroughly debauched as well,” Loki responds with approval, his eyes raking over her in much the same way she had just done to him. She shivers. And is surprised to find it’s not entirely unpleasant. 

She has no idea what to make of what just happened. They did what they had to do for the mission. That was all. Her heart’s just racing because kissing people is exhilarating, and kissing people releases endorphins. Even if it is Loki Odinson. _Especially if it’s Loki Odinson…_

“Shall we get back to business?” Darcy asks with a deep breath, one hand on the doorknob.

“Are you under the impression we had taken a break from business in favor of…pleasure?” Loki asks, one dark eyebrow arching sarcastically. 

She whacks him hard in the arm before they both exit the closet.

_______________________________________________

It’s well after midnight by the time they make it back to their hotel room. Loki glimpses a flash of the time on his watch - 1:32 am - as the pair wearily collapses on opposite sides of the massive bed. It’s been one hell of a night.

Darcy had done her best to distract Kozlovsky, he’ll give her that. In fact, she might have done _too_ well. Because not even two minutes into their renewed conversation he was itching to get her to come back up to his room with him. The very room Loki was hurriedly yet efficiently trying to bug. 

Thanks to their hidden comms system, Darcy was able to fire off a warning to him, allowing him just enough time to escape out of the hotel window. Darcy managed some excuse with Kozlovsky not to spend the night (Loki caught the words “cramps” and “can't fight mother nature!” over the comms). As soon as she was free, she set to verbally guiding Loki as he walked across the ledges of the entire 10th story of the building, before helping him drop down a level and back into their 9th story room. 

But it had all payed off.

After a few minutes of rest, Loki pushes himself off the bed and heads towards the makeshift command center they’ve set up in the corner of their suite. He runs through the motions of activating all of the bugs he’d implanted, but his brain is already trailing off on a far different train of thought. 

The thought of Darcy’s hands all over him in the coat closet. The needy way she’d grasped at his chest, pulling on his tie. Her mouth as it claimed his, using her tongue in sinful ways that would make even Freya herself blush. The way her body felt under his, arching and writhing…her lips on his neck…

It didn’t mean anything, of course. It was simply what needed to be done to paint the picture of their cover. She’s still Darcy Lewis - the reigning queen of irritability and stubbornness, eternal thorn in his side. But she was also still a woman (a woman with luscious curves, curves he hadn’t known even existed until tonight, and a pair of fuller and sweeter lips than all he’d tasted in the nine realms) and he can’t blame himself for letting his body react the way it did…

Damn her. 

Loki sits for a while in front of the monitor, listening closely for any indication that Kovolsky might be their terrorist. But there’s nothing but silence. He must have gone to bed already. 

There’s a shift and a yawn that fills the silence of their room, and Loki glances back towards the bed. Darcy lays curled up in a ball on one side, still wearing her gown, too tired to change. He feels quite the same way. Never has sleep sounded so tempting. 

Loki stands up, tugging his tie off and unbuttoning his vest. He’ll take the couch tonight, then. 

“Hey,” Darcy calls out groggily, staring at him through heavy lids as he sits down on the couch on the opposite side of the room. When he stares at her expectantly, she pats the side of the bed next to her, “I don’t bite. In fact, I won’t even touch you. Promise. This bed is freaking ginormous.” 

“I’ll be fine on the couch,” Loki replies, even though he’s already dreaming about sinking down into the airy mattress of the bed…

“Dude. You scaled the side of the building and dropped down a whole floor tonight,” Darcy continues, scooting even further away from his side of the bed as if to make a point, “You earned it. Don’t make this weird.” 

It surprises him how much he’s not willing to argue with her on this. It must simply be due to the fact that he’s bordering on exhaustion. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since starting this case, and right now, he could desperately use it. 

He slips into the opposite side of the bed, so inviting and soft and comfortable, and the urge to shut his eyes hits him like a freight train. He’s asleep within minutes, just as he breathes in the lingering scent of Darcy’s shampoo. Or is it her perfume…? 

The next morning he wakes to find himself pressed snugly against Darcy’s back. With one arm wrapped loosely around her waist, his face buried in the soft skin of her neck. How the hell they’d managed to get into this position is beyond him. 

She’s curled up tight against his chest, still sleeping soundly, peacefully. He doesn’t even realize how hard he is until she wiggles her hips a little in her dream-state, right up against his pelvis. If he wasn’t fully awake before, he is now. Fuck.

_______________________________________________

Darcy wakes up to find the bright Mediterranean sunlight in her eyes. She rolls over in bed, acutely aware of two things: she’d fallen asleep still in her gown, and Loki was no where to be seen. Even though she distinctly remembers inviting him to share the bed with her. He must be one hell of an early riser…

That’s when the bathroom door opens, and her eyes almost bug out of her head. Steam billows around Loki as he steps out, a white towel clinging dangerously low to his hips and nothing else. He pushes one hand up through his black hair, ruffling it as water droplets fall around his shoulders…dripping down his perfectly sculpted chest and lean pack of abs… _Jesus Christ,_ where had he been hiding those all this time? 

“You’re awake,” He states simply, turning his back to her as he leans against the bathroom sink and picks up a razor. 

Darcy can’t stop staring, because his back is almost as glorious as his front, with broad and toned shoulders, perfect for grasping onto for dear life as he rolls into her from above and - 

“Uh, yeah,” She remembers to reply like a normal human, finally looking away from him. Damn gods and their perfect physique. She can’t believe she’s even having those kinds of thoughts about him right now. It’s Loki. What the hell kind of wiring is off in her brain? 

“Good,” Loki says, and she hopes to god he hadn’t noticed the way she was drinking him in like a tall glass of water on a hot summer’s day. He’s smirking a little through the mirror as he says, “Time to get to work.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how flattered I am at what you guys have been saying about this story? For real, I'm blown away by the response. I'm so glad everyone's digging it. I'm having a blast writing it - my muse is on fire with this one. Anyway, as always, kudos and comments are beautiful and appreciated more than you know!

The whole entire next afternoon is spent running the same con on their other two suspects. Darcy dons a rather revealing bathing suit, one that attracts the attention of more men that just their targets, and she’s able to pick-pocket with relative ease as she flirts with them pool-side. The woman has assets, and she knows how to use them. Loki is impressed. 

And infuriatingly aroused. 

He knows he should be focusing more on the mission - they are still under the threat of a bomb going off at any moment, for Odin’s sake. But there’s something about Darcy Lewis, something beyond all her stubbornness and sass and her loud-mouth, that he’s finding increasingly harder to resist. 

It doesn’t help that between tasks, between bugging their suspects’ rooms, his mind is searching for another excuse to kiss her again. Not because he actually likes her or anything. Probably not, anyway. He'd only jerked off under the hot stream of the shower that morning to the thought of her tight little ass against his crotch, the soft press of her flesh, the little moans she’d made in her sleep… 

So, there was nothing to worry about. He definitely didn’t have any… _feelings_. Total, complete, superficial lust. The thought manages to put him at ease, despite the shallowness of it all. Because if he _did_ have feelings for Darcy Lewis…well, then, that _would_ be a problem. 

“Done,” Darcy says, finally returning from her role as the distraction and slipping into the lawn-chair next to him on the pool deck. “The final wallet has been returned to our final suspect.” 

“You’ve done well,” Loki says, the compliment just slipping out. He adds, “Unexpectedly well.”

Darcy lowers her sunglasses and looks over at him, “And what were you expecting? A piece of dead-weight arm candy with a great set of tits and a killer ass? You haven’t even begun to see the range of my skill-set, baby.” She places her sunglasses back on the crook of her nose and settles back smugly into her chair. 

Loki quirks an eyebrow. Quite the mouth on her, indeed. If he’s being honest with himself, it fills him with a slight thrill. Not many women dare to talk back to him, the God of Mischief, and especially not in that tone. She’s a feisty little thing. And it only lends to the wicked things happening in his imagination…

“So, you wanna hear something weird and totally disgusting?” Darcy asks after a beat, not allowing him to answer before continuing, “Kovalsky has a wife. I saw her arrive today. You’d think he was desperately single the way he was begging me to get into his pants last night.” She shudders a little at the thought. 

Loki cocks his head, deciding to play devil’s advocate, “Were you not also a married person entertaining the idea of sleeping with someone else?”

Darcy scoffs, “Yeah. But that’s different. _This_ …” she gestures with one finger back and forth between the two of them, “is pretend. My fake marriage was not in fake jeopardy. It wouldn’t have mattered if I slept with him. Even though there was no way in hell that would ever happen.” 

Loki makes a little noise of consideration as she continues, “Also, I got an up-close view of Lady K. She’s got the face of a Victoria’s secret model, and the hands of my grandma. Seriously, we’re talking wrinkles galore. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“I suppose,” Loki responds with a yawn, “Does it matter? It all sounds a little trivial to me…” 

“Trivial is my strong suit,” Darcy rolls her eyes and barks out a soft laugh, “You know what? Remind me to introduce you to Trivial Pursuit when this is all over. Now _that_ will be a fun time…” 

“What, playing a board game together?”

“No, me whooping your ass.”

_______________________________________________

A warm, late-evening breeze rolls in from the ocean, onto the terrace where the two of them sit having a casual dinner. Well, where _Darcy_ is having dinner. Loki sits with one hand pressed to the earbud in his ear, the other glued to his smart-phone, listening and watching for anything suspicious coming from their targets.

“Anything?” Darcy asks, pushing at the pomme frites on her plate with her finger, picking one up and nibbling on it as she looks at him expectantly. 

He nods his head no very slightly, not looking up, a discouraged look on his face as he says, “One of the men we bugged today has been talking about his dog for the last half-hour. The other is discussing horse racing with a group of other men. And Kovalsky is as quiet as a mouse. Which is even more suspicious.” 

Darcy sighs, looking at him. She knows they have a mission, that the clock is ticking, that a bomb might go off at any second unless they can find the person responsible. But so far their best bets are all offering no indication of a threat. And Loki looks so exhausted. 

He has this little crease, right between his eyebrows, when he scrunches his face in concentration. Darcy gazes at it now. It’s kind of adorable. Not that Loki is, himself, adorable. Hardly. 

Except…

Except she keeps wondering when she might have the opportunity to kiss him again. The thought is so completely irrational it almost scares her. Almost. But…damn. The man knew what he was doing in the arms of a woman, she’d give him that. Hot and bothered hadn’t even begun to cover how she felt after their fake-closet kissing. And the sight of him fresh out of the shower…wet…naked…sculpted and fit like the god he was…

Yeah. The attraction is definitely there. But on a purely physical level, of course. She could admire that pack of abs and still hate the guts underneath, right? Right. 

“Put down the phone and take a quick break,” Darcy says, sliding her plate of food towards him in offering. “If anything goes down, it’ll ping at us.”

Loki looks a little torn, but eventually gives in, setting the device in front of him, screen tilted up so he could watch it just in case. He reaches for a pomme frite and Darcy offers up a closed-mouth smile before saying, “Even gods have to eat.” 

“Nothing compared to the cuisine on Asgard,” Loki comments, studying the skinny, fancy little french fry. He takes a bite, lifting his eyebrows, “But not bad.” 

That’s the first time Darcy’s heard him mention his home world. Almost instantly, she’s reminded of his past, of all of the dirty deeds and acts she read he’d committed. Of just exactly who she’s sitting with. Loki Odinson, homicidal maniac turned SHIELD employee: the walking contradiction. And of course, it only causes her to open her big mouth, “So…why are you doing this?” 

“Excuse me?”

“ _This,_ ” Darcy stresses the word, “Working for SHIELD. Trying to become an agent. Or, hell, you could even be an Avenger. Why are you here? What’s your endgame, anyway?” 

For a second, Darcy can see a temper flare up in his eyes. She’s obviously pushed his buttons. But she’s surprised to see him reign in an outburst, clenching his jaw a little tightly as level his gaze at her, “You think me to have some sort of ulterior motive?” 

Darcy shrugs, not shrinking under his gaze, “It’s odd, is all.” 

“You don’t think people have the capacity to change?”

“No, I do. It’s just…”

“Just, what? Just me?” 

Darcy huffs out a breath. She’d been the one to breach the subject. Now she wasn’t sure how to tread around it without getting her head ripped off. Before she has a chance to respond, she notices him looking at her curiously. 

“Let me ask you, Darcy. Why are _you_ trying to become an agent of SHIELD?” Loki asks, his voice a little calmer now. 

Darcy purses her lips, a little confused at his roundabout and abrupt question, but answers truthfully nonetheless, “Because I’ve trained for it. And I think I can make a difference. I’m no Steve Rogers, but I think I’ve got what it takes.” She pauses for a beat, thinking about how long she’s wanted this - wanted to prove herself worthy - and how it’s finally within her grasp. “Because I can be good.”

There’s a certain regret in Loki’s eyes as he nods his head at her answer, something that just registers a lost and broken soul inside. His voice is quiet but steady when he says, “I can be good, too.” 

It’s the first time Darcy thinks he’s ever shown her sincere emotion instead of just a mask, instead of his charm and wit to cover his true self. He’s looking to make a name for himself, just like Darcy. Looking to finally prove something, whether it be to others or simply himself. He’s looking for redemption. This is Loki Odinson, and it feels like she’s just now looking at him for the first time. 

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but the phone between them lets out a sudden _ping_. And they’re both snapped back to the mission at hand. 

“Shit, what is it?” Darcy asks, leaning over the table as Loki picks up the phone. 

“One of the bugs went offline,” Loki grumbles, tapping at the phone. “We’ll need to go back up to the room to reset it. It’s getting late, anyway.” 

They both stand up, Loki coming over and winding his arm through hers just for show. His hand slides in perfectly next to hers, his fingers intertwining with her own. But Darcy finds herself hating it just a little bit less than she did just yesterday. Even just earlier this afternoon. And only just a little bit.

_______________________________________________

On the way up to their room, Darcy notices something a little odd. Two of Kovalsky’s security detail get on the elevator as they get off - right on the 9th floor. Darcy shoots Loki a curious look, one that he returns. Both of them silently communicating their confusion: _isn’t Kovalsky’s room on the 10th floor?_

Loki swipes the keycard to their room, the two of them finally in private confines. Or so they think. Loki is hunched over their laptop, booting it up, when suddenly he goes rigid. Darcy notices his change in behavior instantly. 

“What’s up?” She asks, popping an eyebrow. She can see the wheels spinning in his head as he walks closer to her, closing the distance between them. “Is this about the two - ”

“Shh,” He whispers, coming right up to where she stands by the window. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her in close to him, and suddenly it’s like her heartbeat has sky-rocketed. Why is he doing this? They’re alone now…he doesn’t need to pretend…

One of his hands lightly runs up and down her spine, causing her to shiver. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the shell of her ear, and whispers, “We’ve been bugged. In the corner, by the desk. The two men from earlier, they must have broken in.” He pulls her tighter against him, and she lets out a small gasp, “Don’t panic. Don’t say a word. I’m not certain whether they’re audio or visual or both.” 

_Oh,_ Darcy thinks, blinking perhaps a little to rapidly as she processes this information. She’s still shivering under his touch, finally aware of what he’s doing: creating the illusion that they’re nothing other than a normal couple. Alone. In a hotel room. They have to throw the scent in case they're being watched. 

She has questions. So many questions. And she can tell he does too, by the look in his eyes. Why have they been targeted? Have they let something slip? Is their cover blown? Hopefully not yet, if she can help it. She plays along and nuzzles his jaw, running her nose up the side of his face before whispering in his ear, “Can you disarm them? You know, with your magic?” 

“No,” He responds, a low growl into the side of her neck, “I mean, yes. But not yet. It would look too suspicious if their bugs instantly went offline.” He pulls back to look at her, his eyes blazing, and it causes her stomach to flip a little. “Do you trust me?”

She swallows, nodding her head yes, and then he’s kissing her. Darcy knows, knows deep down, that this is only for the mission, only to convince whoever might be watching or listening that they’re a normal couple. But she closes her eyes anyway, letting Loki gently part her lips with his own, and she secretly enjoys it. 

He holds her waist, slowly sliding his hands down until he’s gripping the back of her thighs, hoisting her up in one fluid motion so she can lock her legs around his waist. All the while he never breaks the kiss, his tongue swirling inside her mouth, hot and claiming. A certain thrill shoots through her body at that. 

Now she’s above him, her forehead resting against his as she brings her hands up to grasp the sides of his face. Her weight means nothing to him as he continues to lick into her mouth, holding her steady in his strong arms. The thought of his stamina alone causes an ache to grow between her legs. They break the kiss, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, eyelids low as they look at each other. If this is pretend, Darcy can’t imagine anything much sexier. 

“I think we should…” She begins, her voice trailing off at the end in implication. What she wants is for him to throw her down on the bed and pound her into the mattress until the sun comes up. But that would be asking far too much. Instead she lets him figure it out before whispering, “ _You know_. It doesn’t have to be…real. Just…we just have to look like we’re…”

“ _Yes,_ ” Loki breathes the word a little desperately, surging up and kissing her again, and fuck if that doesn’t set her insides on fire. He guides them foreword, laying her down onto the bed and crawling on top of her. If having fake sex with a literal norse god is the worst thing she does for the mission, she thinks she’ll be just fine…

His weight is comfortably bearable, and all at once overpowering. He’s covering every inch of her it seems, like setting her skin on fire, and she still can’t get enough. She pulls his head down to kiss her again, their lips meeting in a wet and desperate open-mouthed kiss.

“Take off your shirt,” She whispers, and she’s not sure who’s talking: "for-the-mission" Darcy or "horny-as-fuck" Darcy. Either way, he does as he’s told, ridding himself of his white, button-down shirt and leaving him gloriously bare-chested. When he starts to slide off his pants, Darcy can’t help the little whimper that escapes her throat. She only hopes he hadn’t heard it as well. 

She pushes off her pants as well, leaving herself in just her blouse and underwear. Loki leans back down, capturing her lips in another all-too-sinful kiss, and Darcy opens her thighs for him, letting him settle comfortably against her hips.

When he tentatively begins to rock against her, her brain starts to leak out of her ears. She’s dizzy with the thought of him actually taking her, slipping insider her tight heat and fucking her into the mattress. It doesn’t help that all of the sudden, she can feel the rock-hard evidence of his arousal. And he’s _big_.

“Sorry,” Loki apologizes for his erection, burying his face into her neck ashamedly, unable to help himself as he rolls his hips against hers once more. His body is working separately from his mind, seeking out her friction. And then he groans. It’s simultaneously incredibly adorable and hot as fuck. 

“It’s okay,” She whispers shakily, a tiny smile on her face as she clutches the back of his head, winding her fingers though his hair. Her other hand snakes down his back, gripping his firm buttocks through his boxer briefs with a tight squeeze. Well, if they have to play the part, they might as well go all out. 

“So good, you feel so good…” She murmurs, encouraging him to rut against her, his trapped erection grinding against her underwear. She wants nothing more than to snake a hand between them and guide his length to where she needs it most right now. Mission be damned. It’s all she can think about as he continues to press her into the mattress, his skin so hot against hers: imagining what it would be like to have Loki inside her, actually fucking her, his hot dick pumping her full of come…

“Want you to fuck me hard,” She moans, closing her eyes as she wraps her legs tight around the small of his back. She throws her head back as he kisses her neck, thrusting against her. And she pushes back, arching and grinding her hips up against his at an erotic pace. “Want you to make me come. Yeah, _unnh,_ make me feel good. Feel so good. Want your come. Fill me up,” Darcy babbles, lost to the great power of him rolling above her, “Want your babies.” 

Loki pauses, stuttering against her as he whispers roughly against her neck, “We don’t want kids, remember?” 

Darcy’s eyes snap open. Shit, had she said that? Well, things got real kinky real fast, didn’t they. Her mind never was connected to her mouth during sex; she couldn't be held responsible for what dirty desires came spilling out. Apparently that was true for fake sex, too. 

“Oh, uh, yeah…” She nods her head, the clarity of the mission easing its way back into her brain. Loki leans down and kisses the corner of her mouth, and she moans a little louder in case anyone’s listening, “Yeah, _unh_ , baby! Want your dick but don’t want your come!”

He snickers at that, a breathless little laugh that only she can hear. The sound fills her with euphoria. She’d made him laugh. Actually laugh. She’s smiling a little as she pushes her hips against his, urging him onwards. She can feel him painfully hard, resting hot and thick against the outside of her core.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Darcy…” Loki whispers raggedly, and she clamps her legs tighter around him, causing him to bury his face between her neck and the pillows. This might be fake sex, but it’s making Darcy hotter than possible, and the way he begins to snap his hips against hers causes her to pant and whine. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…yes, _yes_ almost there…” She gasps, simulating her own orgasm as he continues to simulating rutting into her from above. She finds his neck with her lips, latching down and swirling her tongue on that sensitive spot, the one she knows will turn him into a puddle and - 

“ _Ah,_ ” He gasps sharply against her neck, his hips stuttering and stilling against hers. And then he’s moaning deeply, pulsing into his boxer-briefs, a hot rush of come that Darcy can feel. Oh, _shit_.

He collapses to her side, breathing heavily, but it’s nothing compared to the shortness of breath Darcy’s experiencing. That was the honest to god hottest sex she’s ever had. And they didn’t even _have_ sex. 

“I apologize…” Loki begins, his voice still sounding wrecked and hotter than hell. “I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s alright,” Darcy breathes with a small, understanding laugh. “The neck thing. That was my fault. I should have remembered.” 

He turns his head to look at her, his eyes…softer, somehow. Darcy’s not sure if it’s a post-orgasm thing or what. “Would you like to use the shower first?” He actually offers. 

“I think you might need it more,” Darcy bites down on her lower lip to keep from smirking. Besides…she has other things to take care of first. 

He pushes himself off the bed, walking towards the bathroom, and Darcy almost licks her lips at the sight of his back muscles in the moonlight. Before he reaches the door, she calls out from bed, still wary of who may or may not still be listening or watching, “Do you think…that was good?” She hopes they’ve fooled whoever has bugged them. Hell, she could’ve fooled herself, for a second. 

He looks back at her, nodding his head slowly, and she swears she sees him smirk, “Yes, I think that was good.” 

As soon as he closes the door, she lets out a frustrated sigh, closing her eyes and snaking her hand underneath the fabric of her underwear. And within seconds, less than a minute even, she’s coming hard to thought of Loki Odinson and everything about him that had pushed her body so close to the edge.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks for all of you who have enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it. Your comments and kudos are so loved and appreciated. Onto the final chapter!

Loki stands in the shower for a long time. Much longer than normal. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s not ready yet to go back out and face Darcy Lewis, or if he needs more time to replay in his mind everything they’d done. Maybe a little of both. 

When he finally shuts off the water, he realizes he forgot to wash his hair, and he twists the handle once more and lathers up. He’s never felt so out of sorts before. Completely distracted by a woman who, up until mere days ago, wouldn’t have registered a second thought in his brain. 

And now she’s all he sees when he closes his eyes. Her hair sprawled out underneath her pillow as he simulated rocking into her from above. The way she clung to him…so desperate and wanting. The mouth of hers - that _fucking_ mouth - babbling on and on about what she wanted him to do to her. Oh, _fuck_. And he would have, too. The instant replay in his mind is already threatening to make him hard again. 

The worst part of it all is that he’s afraid the attraction might not be purely physical, either. There’ll be times the two of them can communicate seamlessly with no more than a look. Times when she proves that she’s got more calculated wit behind her off-handed remarks than he’d given her credit for. Times when he looks at her, and she’s looking back and it’s like - it’s like she understands. How could she possibly understand him? How could she ever? And yet…one look, and he feels like she does. 

Loki finishes washing his hair, shaking free the excess water droplets as he clears his head. He’ll just have to worry about his rapidly consuming affliction later. Right now he has a mission to attend to. 

With a flick of his wrist from inside the bathroom, he easily disables the bugs that had been placed inside their room with a dose of his magic. It’s been long enough now that nothing will seem suspicious about the bugs going offline. Whoever had been spying on them will no longer be able to. Now, the real trick will be to figure out why they’d been bugged in the first place. 

Later in the night, after the room has been thoroughly debugged by Loki’s magic, he finds himself once again sharing the bed with Darcy Lewis. Only this time, it’s far less intimate, although there’s still no sleeping involved. Each of them sits glued to a laptop: Darcy sprawled out on her stomach at the foot of the bed and Loki sitting upright against the headboard. Each of them studying the wire-taps and security footage coming from their suspects. 

Around 4:30 a.m., Darcy lifts her bleary eyes from the computer, props her chin up with one hand, and shoots Loki a look as she yawns, “Is it just me or…does this terrorist threat seem emptier and emptier?”

Loki runs a hand up through his hair, taking in a deep breath. Looking down at his screen, he sees the same thing he’s essentially been looking at for hours: nothing. No suspicious activity. No coded messages. Just normality. 

“I’ve yet to come across any red flags,” Loki admits, “Kovalsky doesn’t seem to strike me as the terrorist type.”

Darcy hums into the palm of her hand, “Maybe…maybe nothing will go down? I mean, the last threat was, what? Over a month ago? And we haven’t found anything since. What if it’s all hot air?” 

As much as Loki would hate to admit it, his thinking had already been along that very same line. He hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud, much less to himself. Because what if they were right? What if the threats were empty, and he had wasted his time? This was supposed to be _his_ mission. His time to to prove to the world his worth. To go back to SHIELD with nothing but empty hands would be unacceptable. 

“I’m not giving up yet,” Loki responds with steely resolve.

“Neither am I,” Darcy replies quickly, “Not a chance in hell. But just…what if.” 

Loki sighs, and he has a feeling the weary look on Darcy’s face matches his own. They’ve both come too far to fail. “Get some sleep,” He suggests. “I’ll keep an eye and ear on the taps. We’ll switch off.” 

Darcy makes a face like she wants to protest, but the idea of sleep appears to be too tempting for her to ignore. The instant she lets her head fall against her forearm below, her eyes close and her breathing deepens. She’s asleep within minutes, legs curled up against her chest, her laptop still humming quietly on the bed in front of her. 

And despite the pressing urgency of the matter at hand, Loki feels his face soften at the sight of her.

_______________________________________________

Darcy wakes abruptly to the shrill ringing of her Stark phone right in her ear.

“WHAT.” She cries out incoherently, jerking herself up and scrambling for her phone. Loki has nodded off further up on the bed, but at the sound of the ringtone, he too snaps his eyes open. Darcy grabs her phone and taps the screen to answer the call - Director Fury’s face suddenly flooding the entire screen. 

“Miss Lewis,” He greets her, ever the stern tone to his voice. Darcy chances a glance towards the alarm clock on the nightstand and sees it’s 10:30 am. Much later than she’d planed on sleeping in. Then again, she was kind of hoping Loki would wake her up. 

“Um, hey, boss,” She replies, clearing the rough sound of sleep out of her voice. 

“Is Odinson with you?” He inquires.

Darcy shakes her head yes, making brief eye contact with Loki before replying, “Right next to me.”

“Good. Mission report.” Fury commands, cutting right to the chase. There was no beating around the bush with him, and Darcy respected that. On the other hand, they literally had no fresh leads on any of their suspects, and the thought of coming home empty handed turns her stomach to knots.

Darcy sits up in bed with the phone, clearing her throat as she tries to sound professional, “There’s…uh…we’ve been spying on all our primes, but I don’t think…I mean, we’ve done everything we can but…” 

She’s stumbling hard and she knows it. Fortunately, Loki gestures with one hand, and she gladly hands the phone over to him. It’s not that she didn’t know what to say. It was just that she was afraid to admit it to Fury.

“Sir, we’ve done all we can to identify the terrorist,” Loki speaks, the words spilling out smoothly from his lips, “But all of our suspects have lead us to dead ends.” 

Darcy chews on her lower lip as she hears Fury sigh from the other end of the phone. And then he says, “I had a feeling. It’s been over thirty days since the last threat went public. Turns out they were nothing but hollow. I’m calling the mission off.” 

Darcy’s eyes widen, and she can see Loki’s lips part in surprise ever so slightly before he composes himself, “Sir, if we could have a little more time on the case, I’m sure we’d be able to extract further evidence to - ”

“Save it, Odinson, I’ve made up my mind.” Fury interrupts, “I’ve had a strike team waiting on standby about ten miles out from the city in case you two found the terrorist and shit starting hitting the fan, but that just doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. I’m calling them back to base. The summit ends tonight, and if nothing’s happened by now, and it still looks like it won’t, trust me, nothing will. I’ve been here before.” 

Darcy can feel her spirits deflating faster than a balloon. This was supposed to be the mission that promoted her to agent. And now it’s over. Just like that. When else was she going to have a shot like this? 

“Director Fury, please…” Darcy begs, unable to keep the plea out of her voice. She can’t go back to the training mats and the mess halls. She just can’t. Two years has been long enough. Across the phone she catches Loki’s eyes again, and although he’s harder to read this time, she knows he wants the same thing. 

“My word is final.” Fury replies with a cold confidence. “It’s not your fault; you just got assigned a dud. This is the best kind of outcome, anyway. No casualties. No cleanup afterwards.”

Darcy lets out a tiny, defeated sigh under her breath. She can hear Fury sign out with “Pack your things. We’ll send a jet for you tonight at seven.” And then the screen on the phone goes black. 

A silence stretches between them then, the words of Fury still hanging like a weight between them. Everything feels so abrupt, like car tires screeching to a halt. They hadn’t failed their mission. But they hadn’t completed it either. There would be no glory, no redemption, no chances to prove their worthiness. 

The funny thing is, Darcy had felt a little inkling of suspicion. Like they had been getting closer to the truth. Especially after they’d been bugged the night before. Someone, somewhere in this hotel was hiding something. Had been threatened by the two of them. But they’d searched every possible reason for it and come up short.  


“So…what now?” Darcy asks aloud, maybe more to herself than Loki. 

There’s a look in Loki’s eye, one that makes Darcy feel like something more than their mission is ending. His voice is flat when he responds, “Now we leave.”

_______________________________________________

The wind whips through Darcy’s hair as the speedboat carrying them to the airport bounces atop the waves. With one hand, she idly trails it through the spray of water on the side of the boat. She’d been solemn and uncharacteristically reserved all afternoon long. She barely spoke a word to Loki after Fury’s phone call.

Honestly, she finds it difficult to even look at him. 

Not only is she losing her mission, she’s losing…well, it’s hard to put a finger on exactly what it is she’s losing with Loki Odinson. They weren’t pretending to be married any longer. And that’s why it’s difficult to figure out how to act around him. She can’t go back to blindly ignoring him. They were _far_ too familiar for that. But she couldn’t wrap her arms around his waist and kiss him like she so desperately wants to, either. 

She might never see him again after this mission. SHIELD is, after all, a huge organization. Dammit if she ever thought she’d ever long for the opportunity to be placed with him again. She steals a glance at him now, leaning back in the speed boat, his steely gaze cast out on the horizon. All she wants is to reach out and touch him, one last time - 

The speedboat hits a particularly rough patch of water, and Darcy goes flying ungracefully into his lap. Well, if that isn't definitely the most unconventional and fastest way her wishes had ever been granted. 

“Sorry,” She blurts out, trying to untangle her limbs from his. Loki only seems completely bemused, however, watching as she squirms in his lap. Finally, he offers her a hand, helping her right herself. 

“Your hands…” He observes, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers. She shivers involuntarily at the contact. 

“Oh, yeah…” Darcy says, holding up her hand and wiggling it in front of her face as she sits back down in her own seat. “They’re just wrinkly from when I was dipping them in the water - ”

Loki stares at her in curiosity, hanging at the end of her abrupt sentence. But Darcy’s mind is already whirring at a hundred miles an hour in the opposite direction, having been triggered by the thought of the wrinkles... 

“Darcy?” Loki asks in concern. 

“Turn the boat around,” Darcy calls out to the SHIELD agent driving their speed boat.

“Darcy, what’s wrong?” Loki asks again. 

“I said, TURN THE BOAT AROUND!” Darcy shouts louder, finally getting the attention of the driver. 

Loki stands up, towering over her as he places his hands on her shoulders and looks down. His eyes search hers, trying to understand her motives. Darcy just blinks with disbelief as she looks up and replies with dead seriousness, “I know who it is. The terrorist.”

The boat whips around at a furious speed, causing both Darcy and Loki to grip the backs of their chairs for support. He looks back over at her with confusion as she calls out to the agent, “Get Fury on the radio. Get the strike team back. If we don’t get back in time, a bomb’s going to go off and take all those big whigs with it.” 

“Darcy, are you sure?” Loki asks as the driver of their boat radios into SHIELD. 

She nods her head, “It’s Mrs. Kovaklsy. Remember how I told her her hands were wrinkly and her face was as smooth as plastic? That’s because it _is_ plastic. The synthetic stuff at least. Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it. It’s a mask…the same kind of illusionary ones SHIELD uses.”

“We’ve been watching the wrong Kovalsky…” Loki says, quickly drawing his own conclusions. 

“She’s been hiding her real identity,” Darcy nods her head frantically, “And Peter Kovalsky has been her distraction. Because who would ever suspect the wife, right?” 

“Darcy…” Loki blinks in a rare moment of shock, “If you’re wrong…” 

“I’m not.” She replies with conviction. “But there’s no way the strike team is going to be back in time…”

“Then it’s down to you and I,” Loki responds, and there’s just a hint of a determined smirk pulling up the right corner of his mouth. This is it. This is his moment. Her moment. _Their_ mission. And their time to finish it. 

“Let’s bag ourselves a terrorist.” 

In the end, it really is just the two of them. They find Kovalsky’s wife in the middle of the dance hall, right as the final speeches were being made. The strike team hasn’t arrived yet, leaving Darcy and Loki to their own devices. Which, by all means, are definitely adequate. 

When Darcy confronts Mrs. Kovalsky, she flees, bolting for the nearest exit...which is covered by the six-foot-two Norse God of Mischief. Actually, all exits are covered by Loki, thanks to his illusions. This, in turn, only sends the panicked woman smack-dab back into Darcy, who has already produced her taser. 

By this time, the crowd begins to shriek and scatter, tables tipping over and glasses shattering. The terrorist knocks the taser out of Darcy’s hands with a sharp kick before a debilitating enough shock could be given. But in an instant, Loki is on her, his magic wrapping constraints around her body as the strike team bursts through the doors. Darcy nurses her sore arm where Kovalsky had deflected her taser and catches a glimpse of Loki’s face: full of rage and anger. 

“Touch her again and I kill you,” Loki whispers so darkly Darcy almost doesn’t catch it. But before she has a chance to question it, SHIELD is swarming them, already taking over.

Darcy swears her heart has never pumped so full of adrenaline. And perhaps it isn’t proper etiquette to smile uncontrollably upon stopping a terrorist attack, but she can’t help it. She really can't believe what she’d done. What they’d done together. 

She catches Loki’s eye as SHIELD converges in on them. And it seems, despite it all, he can’t keep the grin off his face, either.

_______________________________________________

“You’ve done well,” Fury congratulates them back at SHIELD headquarters, standing in front of them in his office. He nods towards Loki, “Especially you, Odinson. My guys tell me you were the one to subdue the threat.”

Loki nods with a glint in his eye, “Thank you sir. But it was Darcy who pieced it together. Without her, we would have never caught Kovalsky.”

“Is that so?” Fury replies, narrowing his gaze at Darcy. “And you kept your mouth shut on that, Lewis? Knowing you, I’d have thought you’d come into this office singing to the mountain tops bragging about it.” 

“Yeah, well...” Darcy shrugs, a smile on her face, “As the great Peggy Carter once said, I know my value. The important thing is, we caught her. People are safe.” 

“What is this, opposite day?” Fury exclaims with light-hearted sarcasm. “You stand all tall and proud while Odinson here gushes your praises? Now I’ve definitely seen it all.”

Darcy bites her bottom lip to keep the smile from breaking out across her whole face. Loki stands to her right, and she feels him nudge against her shoulder just enough for it to be a friendly gesture. And if that’s all they are after this - just friends, then maybe…maybe that will be enough. 

Fury nods his head after the beat of silence, “You’ve shown maturity.” He looks between the two of them, an impressed expression as he says, “You both have. I was ready to pack up and leave this case dead in the water. And I don’t take to admitting my faults too often.” 

He slides two badges across his desk, a hint of pride in his voice as he says, “Congratulations, agents. Your mission was successful.” 

Both Darcy and Loki ride the elevator down together. She’s not sure what the future has in store, but nothing can compare to the feeling of elatedness she’s currently riding high on. And despite his usually concealed demeanor, she knows Loki is feeling exactly the same way. 

“You did it,” She beams happily at him, unable to help the bubble of laughter from escaping her throat. 

“We both did,” He replies quietly, setting his smoldering gaze on her. The gaze that suddenly has the ability to make her go weak in the knees. The last time they shared an elevator together, they’d wanted to rip each other’s throats out. And now they stand here, on equal ground, sharing a mutual respect. 

Darcy almost wants to say something more. But she’s not sure how, and the floors are ticking down faster and faster. Just something, anything, about what a pleasure it was to work with him. No, not a pleasure. A pleasure sounds too stiff and formal. And she doesn’t want to leave him with that impression. But she doesn’t know when the next time she might see him again will be and - 

“Well, it was good times being married to you,” She blurts out, unable to filter the phrase that had flown out of her mouth as the doors pinged open. _Good times?!_ She scrunches up her face in embarrassment as he looks at her oddly. “I mean…I’ll see you around. Still owe you that game of Trivial Pursuit sometime, right?” She breathes out a embarrassed little noise, “Later, Loki.” 

And she’s bolting out of the elevator faster than she ever thought was possible. Definitely not how she’d wanted to leave him. But as awful as it was, she can't deny it was a terribly in-character thing for her to do. Better to leave now than incur even more verbal damage. _Dammit, Lewis…_

“I’m free tomorrow night…?”

His voice causes her to whirl around. Loki’s walking toward her, a sincere look on his face and a wicked look in his eye as he says, “That is…if you’re still under the impression you’ll…what was the phrase… _whoop my ass_?” 

A weird sense of relief and nervous butterflies flood her system as she looks up at him. “8:30 at my place then,” Darcy grins hesitantly, “Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, agent.”

_______________________________________________

**TWO YEARS LATER**

Loki’s dreaming. Surely he’s dreaming. He opens his eyes slowly, feels the warmth of her body next to his (practically on his), smells the scent of the strawberry shampoo in her hair, feels the way her lips gently suck on his neck, leaving wet little marks. How could this be anything other than a dream?

“Darcy…” He warns quietly, his voice still gruff from sleep. 

“Mmm?” She humms the sound, still lazily marking his skin. She throws one arm across his neck, hooking a leg over his thigh and slowly rolling their bodies closer together. He can feel a little shiver of anticipation pass through her body, and he can only thank the nine realms, for this is far better than a dream. 

“Temptress,” He growls, threading a hand through her hair, pulling her lips from his neck and bringing them to his own mouth. Her knowledge of the weak spot on his neck is simultaneously the biggest blessing and curse he’s ever experienced. And right now, it’s awakened him in more ways than one. 

He slides their tongues together hotly, relishing in the way she feels against him. So warm and perfect. She feels like home. He could spend hours doing just this: kissing her, exploring her in ways he never knew imaginable, in ways they never have before. They bleed away the minutes like this, their kisses each meaning something different. Sometimes slow and drawn out, sighing into each other’s mouths. Sometimes hungrier and frantic - grasping at each other as their limbs tangle together and their breathing becomes more erratic. 

Darcy ends up on top of him, his large hands traveling up and down her spine, searching out every inch of her soft and warm flesh, pulling it tighter against his. He really could spend hours doing nothing but this: kissing and holding each other close. And in fact, they’ve done it before.

But this is not one of those times. 

Eventually, Darcy is unable to help herself, rubbing herself against his solid thigh. Little moans escape her mouth - _unh, unh, unh_ \- as she finds the friction she wants, her body rubbing against him in a deliriously tantalizing manner. Her stomach presses up against his hard and leaking cock, and it causes him to groan. It feels so sinfully good. 

“Want you in me,” She whispers against his lips, her eyes fluttering open and meeting his. She’s beautiful like this - writhing above him, the pale sunlight hitting her cheek and making her glow. And how could he deny a request like that? 

He gently leads his swollen cock to her entrance, pushing up and inside with hardly any resistance. It takes all his will-power not to begin thrusting up into her and fucking into her wildly. But this is also not one of those times. This isn’t a hard and lust-fueled fuck. This is soft, early morning love-making. And he’s going to take his time with her. 

“So warm, Darcy…” He chokes out, feeling her contract against him, “So tight…” 

The softest moan he’s ever heard escapes her lips, and she buries her face between his neck and the pillow, slowly rocking her hips against his, keeping him buried inside her. They’re both at a loss for words at this point, the feeling of being so totally connected overwhelming every other sense. 

Eventually she begins to move, slowly pumping herself up and down on him, pressing her chest flush to his. His hands wrap around her lower back and her head, pulling her into back to his mouth as he kisses her again. She likes to be kissed as she orgasms. It’s one of the many endearing things he’s learned about her throughout the years. 

With every slick slide into her core, he can feel himself teetering closer to the edge. Combined with the little whimpers she keeps making between kisses, it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind yet. But she’s closer, and she comes suddenly, twitching around him and gasping into his mouth. He feels her toes curling against his shins, and it causes him to smile against her lips. 

When she finishes, she collapses lazily against his chest, sighing contentedly into his neck, “Want you to come in me.” She pumps her hips, riding the aftershock of her orgasm, “So good. You make me feel so good.” 

“I love you,” Loki whispers, allowing his hips to roll up into her, finally thrusting for the first time. “I love you so much.” 

“I know baby,” She mumbles, licking his neck. Again with the neck. He’s a goner now. “I love you too. Come for me.” 

And he does. 

They fall asleep again just like that, tangled in each other and the sheets. When the shrill ring of Loki’s Stark phone goes off a few hours later, Darcy grumbles agitatedly, burying her head in the pillow next to Loki. It’s later in the morning now, much longer than either of them can afford to sleep in. 

Loki reaches for his phone, pushing past the scattered pie pieces of Trivial Pursuit that linger on their nightstand. When he finally answers the call and presses it to his ear, he’s met with the booming voice of his brother. 

“Loki!” Thor greets him, “Brother, are you unwell? You haven’t answered any of our previous calls this morning, and - ”

Thor is interrupted but what sounds like ruffling static, and then Tony Stark is on the phone saying, “What the big guy means is, when we say ‘Avengers Assemble’, we mean all of us. That includes you, oh big bad Reindeer. The team’s been waiting on you for the last thirty minutes, so hurry up.” 

“Apologies,” Loki grumbles into the phone, “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Good.” Stark concludes, “Oh, and if you see the Director, tell her we need her on hand, too.” 

The line cuts after that, and Loki tosses his phone back onto the nightstand. Next to him, Darcy peeks at him from under her pillow. She pops an eyebrow and asks, “What was all that about?” 

“Our merry band of misfits is requesting our company, _Director_ Lewis,” Loki replies, laying back down and turning to face his wife. Their noses almost touch like this, and he can see Darcy begin to smile at the way his breath is tickling her face. 

“Aww...ten more minutes?” She groans lightly, pleadingly. There’s a softness in her eyes. One he knows he now mirrors in his own. She is, undoubtedly, the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He laughs breathlessly, kissing the corner of her mouth, “I believe the world can survive for ten more minutes without us.”


End file.
